Author's Note: If you recognize it, it isn't mine. Regardless of how I keep hoping…
Author's Note 2: I assume the thud I heard was everyone's jaws hitting the floor to find an update? Yes, I've updated! I'm not entirely sure I'm happy with this chapter, but until I get back into the swing of things I hope you'll feel it's better than nothing.
Previously, in "Criminal Minds: The Prodigal":
Gideon stood and watched him ride away, wondering just exactly what Sam had seen, and where.
"OK, thanks, Garcia. It sure sounds to me like those three cases you dug up in Mariposa county could be linked." Morgan continued to make notes as her words gushed into his ear. "No, mama, he's tired but he's fine. Honest, he's fine. We're just working in different directions today, that's all. You know we do that…. All right, yes, I'll tell him you're worried about him. All right mama, you be good today, catch you later."
As he left the coffee shop, Morgan saw the marred paint on the Suburban again. It was just as shocking now as it had been the first time he'd seen it. There must be something going on in this guy's head to make him do such damage, but what? At least the engine still worked, he reflected as he drove the short distance to the corner gas station to fill up the tank before setting off to Mariposa. There had been a brief rain shower overnight, and the air practically sparkled. He guided the big SUV up the curving road leading out of Oakhurst, his mind running through ideas about the Unsub and his potential motivations. None of this thinking stopped him from looking at the river that ran alongside the road for most of the way though, and realizing what a beautiful part of the country this was. He sure could understand why all these guys were coming up here to go hiking.
As he drove down the two-lane road into Mariposa just over two hours later, he saw the scar of a wildfire across the hills above the town. It was still stark and black, with no green haze showing that he could see, and he wondered idly when it had happened. Looked like it had been a big fire, too, and that must have been frightening for people living in the area.
Morgan parked in front of the sheriff's office and stretched as he got out of the car. He was made for action, not for driving like this, and his back didn't like the idleness one bit. He decided as he strode up the steps and into the lobby that he'd go for an extra-long run tonight to make up for it.
"Hello there, you must be Agent Morgan from the FBI," said the civilian sitting at the reception desk, and he looked at her in surprise. "My husband was in the FBI, so I've learned to recognize the type, and I knew you were coming. Plus, a black SUV? Come on, how could I not?"
"You got that right, maybe we do kind of play to stereotypes. Derek Morgan from the BAU, yes. I'm supposed to meet with the sheriff and then look over some open cases you have over here, they may be linked with some open cases over in Madera county."
"I heard about that. Hang on a minute and I'll call the boss. Can I get you some coffee?"
Morgan shook his head as she picked up the phone, and wandered away from the desk to look at the glory wall while he waited. Photos of a soot-smudged fire crew in forest gear caught his eye, and he leaned in for a closer look. "Mariposa fire crew demobilized from Gold Creek fire", read the headline, with a date of 15 August. This must be the burn scar he'd seen earlier, he thought. He realized it was when he saw a map showing the extent of the fire, as well as an article revealing the cause of the fire – apparently a hiker who'd parked where he shouldn't have. His pulse sped up as he realized this might be the trigger, and he snatched his cell phone out of its holster.
"Hey, Hotch, I think we've got something over here. All but one of these guys have died since early September, right? And all of them at trail heads, right? Apparently about to drive off after a day hiking in the woods. Well, I'm looking at an article from the local paper – they had a wildfire over here in August, and in the last week of August the fire guys disclosed that it had been sparked by a hiker's vehicle. I think we're looking at the trigger here."
"That's good work, Morgan, I agree it could be related. Do they have any cases over there?"
"Yeah, Penelope pulled up three cases that might be related, but I just got here so I haven't looked at them yet."
"Keep me posted, and we'll have to sit together this afternoon when you get back."
Morgan hung up the phone, certain that they had the trigger and now they just needed the rest of the puzzle pieces.
"Agent Morgan?" He turned to see a middle-aged man, uniformed in tan and brown like nearly every other sheriff he'd ever worked with, coming out from the offices behind the reception desk. "Sheriff Caruso, but call me Joe, please. Come on back, I gather you've got some questions about some open cases?"
"I do, but I've got questions about this fire, too. This article says it was a hiker that started it. What more can you tell me?"
"It was a hiker, damned city guy down from Portland or Seattle or somewhere like that, drove out to the trailhead and parked with his tailpipe down in the cheatgrass. He drove off later, and two hours later it burst into flame, right where he'd been parked. Damned fool! Burned 2000 acres before the crews got it contained."
"You actually IDed the guy?"
"We did." The sheriff sighed, and shook his head ruefully, looking at the articles on the bulletin board. "Gotta give him credit, he was staying here in town, and once he realized where the fire had started, he came right in and fessed up to parking his SUV out there."
"An SUV?"
"Latest model Landrover, sure, all the trimmings but no common sense. Anyway, what's your interest in this fire?"
"Let's go back to your office and talk about it, but I think this is a big piece of the case. And I'd still like to take a look at those open cases if I can."
Four hours later, Morgan shook hands with Caruso at the foot of the steps. He'd spent nearly three hours reviewing the three open cases and discussing them with the sheriff and his lead investigator, then the three of them had gone across the street for a well-deserved but very late lunch. As the station door closed behind the sheriff, he dialed Hotch's number again.
"Hotch, it's me. We definitely have something over here. All three killings were after the fire was extinguished, and all the victims fit the profile – well-off guys with big vehicles, parked at trailheads. I think we need to focus on the fire as the precipitating event."
"I agree, Morgan. Have Garcia start looking at the fire crews they used, and have her expand her search to neighboring counties too."
"Already did that. She said she'd send me anything interesting from Mono and Tuolomne counties as soon as she found it, but I haven't checked my e-mail yet. I'll get her started on the fire crews next. You got anything over there?"
"Nothing substantive, no. Philipps and I have bounced some ideas around, especially once you put in the information about the fire, but we haven't come up with anything specific. Look, as late as it is, why don't you come on back here? We'll sit down with Philipps and put all of this together. In fact, why don't you have the Mariposa sheriff come over too, and see what he can add to it?"
Sheriff Caruso was interested enough in the idea of his open cases being linked to someone else's problem to overlook the long day that was likely to result, and he and Morgan set out in separate vehicles for the drive back to Oakhurst. It didn't take long, though, for the Tahoe's tail lights to disappear around one of the many curves in the road, but Derek wasn't surprised. The sheriff clearly knew the road better and drove it frequently enough to drive a bit faster than he was. He settled down for his own two-hour drive, enjoying the scenery if not the reason why he was there.
Part of the way back – about a mile shy of the road where they'd found the most recent victim last night, he realized – he met a young man riding casually along the highway shoulder on a good-looking horse. He waved, and the young man straightened, then lifted his hat in a clear salute.
Derek watched the horseman dwindle in his rearview until the curve of the road took him out of sight. "Definitely not something you see in Washington! Sure is a different world out here."